Jiron pauses a moment to listen and can hear their voices from way down below. Nodding for Stig to follow, he takes the stairs as quickly as he can while still remaining silent. When he reaches the point where he’s sure the second floor should be, the stairs continue down. This stairwell must be a straight shot all the way down to the ground floor.
Continuing down, he soon sees where the stairwell ends. Slowing to a crawl, Jiron approaches the opening. The stairs come out at a large room designed for entertaining guests. A large fireplace sits in one wall, dark and cold. Two tables with six chairs each sit at either end of the room. Bookshelves line two of the walls with numerous volumes upon them.
To Jiron’s right, another door stands open and the men’s voices can be heard coming from the other side. Crossing the room quickly, Jiron peers through the door and sees the two men walking down a finely decorated hallway to a door at the end. When the men get there, the one he met at the bridge opens it for the other. The two men shake hands and the man in armor says a few parting words then passes through the doorway and into the street.
Closing the door, the man turns around and begins to head back toward the room in which Jiron and Stig currently occupy. “He’s coming!” Jiron tells Stig.
Stig nods and takes position behind where the door will swing open and Jiron flattens himself against the wall on the other side. With knife in hand, he waits for the man to enter. They can hear his steps approaching.
All of a sudden, a blood curdling scream knifes through the silence of the house. A servant had come from out of the stairwell leading to the third floor and saw them there.
“Get the servant!” Jiron hollers as he throws open the door. With sword drawn, the man from the bridge almost runs into him on his way into the room, so unexpectedly did the door open.
Coming to a stop, the man takes in Jiron in front of him and Stig having his servant girl in hand. Stepping back a foot to give his sword room to maneuver, he finally takes a good look at Jiron. “You!” he exclaims in disbelief. Raising his sword he prepares for attack.
“Wait a minute!” yells Jiron. He lowers his knife and raises his hands. “We’re not here to rob or hurt you.”
“Then what are you here for?” he asks, clearly not believing him.
Pulling forth the necklace, he holds it up for the man to see. “I want to know where you got this!” he demands.
“You broke into my home, scared my servant half to death, just to ask me that?” he asks incredulously.
“I told you at the bridge this was important,” explains Jiron.
The man’s eyes shift from Jiron, to the necklace, then back again.
“I need to know where you got this,” Jiron says again, “and I’m running out of time!”
Azku puts away his sword as there is clearly no immediate danger. “Let her go,” he says.
Jiron never takes his eyes off of him as he says to Stig, “Go ahead.”
Stig releases the woman who runs past Jiron and clasps the man in a tight embrace, her sobs are muffled from where she has her face buried in his shoulder.
Patting her on the head, the man says to her in a soothing voice, “It’s okay. Go on upstairs and I’ll take care of this.” He places his finger under her chin and raises her face so her eyes look into his. “It’ll be okay.”
She gives Jiron and Stig a fearful glance before moving down the hallway away from them. The man watches her as she walks swiftly away and enters a doorway further down. Turning a face red with anger back to his two uninvited guests, he says, “I suppose I won’t get rid of you until I either kill you or talk with you.”
“I would prefer to talk,” replies Jiron.
The man indicates with a nod of his head for them to return to the room at the foot of the winding stairway. Jiron still has his knife in hand as he backs up into the room. “You are Azku, yes?” he asks.
“That’s right,” the man replies.
“The same Azku that gave a young lady this necklace in Inziala?” he asks. When Azku gestures for him to take a seat on one of the chairs, he does. Stig remains standing next to him as Azku sits in the chair facing him.
Sighing, Azku nods. The anger that was so hot when he first encountered them in his house begins to cool.
“Why did you spurn her when you found out about the child?” Stig asks.
Azku glances at him then back to Jiron. “I thought you wanted to know about the necklace?” he asks, completely ignoring Stig’s question.
“I do,” Jiron replies.
“Why?” Azku asks. “Why go to all this trouble?”
Bringing out the necklace, he says, “The last time I saw this was the night my best friend’s fiancee died. This was a gift to her from him shortly before. The following morning, my friend departed and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”
“He left?” he asks.
Nodding, Jiron says, “I don’t know why he left, maybe he was too overcome with grief. The necklace was in his possession when he took off.”
“I see,” the man says. “So you hope that I can be of some help in finding him?”
“That’s right,” Jiron states.
The man looks at him, the anger he initially felt continues to melt away. Not completely, he’s still upset about being accosted in his own home. “What will you do with the information should I have any you can use?” he finally asks after a moment’s thought.
“I don’t follow,” Jiron tells him.
“I’m not stupid,” he says. “If a necklace of such emotional importance is not with your friend, I would suspect it wouldn’t have been relinquished willingly.” He pauses a moment to see if his words have any effect. When Jiron fails to react he knows that Jiron has come to the same conclusion.
“Can you help me?” Jiron asks.
“Perhaps,” he replies. “I acquired the necklace through a business associate some time ago for the woman I loved. That was before I realized the woman was…soiled.” His eyes tighten with remembered pain from the night when he had to spurn her.
Coming to sit on the edge of the chair, Jiron asks, “Who?”
“It would be problematic should anything befall this man,” Azku states as he sees the burning intensity behind Jiron’s eyes. “Would giving you his name be a death sentence should you find that your friend is already dead?”
Jiron shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “All I want to do is find out what happened to him.”
Azku studies him for a full minute before asking, “Would you be willing to give your solemn word to leave him as you find him?”
“Yes,” replies Jiron. “I give my word that I and those with me shall cause no harm to the person you name.”
“As strange as it sounds, I believe you,” he says. “But before I tell you his name, I must warn you.”
“I assure you,” Jiron tells him, “I and my friends are more than capable of handling ourselves.”
Azku gives him a sardonic grin, “I’m sure you are. However, you may wish to know that due to your earlier visit to the Cracked Ladle, you and those with whom you travel may have drawn the attention of an Eye.”
“An Eye?” asks Jiron. “As in an Eye of the Empire?”
“The same,” he nods. “You see the Order of the Scarlet Sword counts many who are not of the Empire among its members. This gives the Eyes of the Empire cause for concern, they think we’re a bunch of spies and such. Nothing however could be further from the truth.”
“I would think they would move against such an organization,” Jiron says. “From what I’ve heard of them, they tend to be fairly ruthless when they feel something is not right.”
“Ordinarily that is true,” nods Azku. “But keep in mind, some of the highest commanders in the Empire’s forces are members. It’s also rumored that the Emperor himself is one too, but I have yet to see creditable evidence to support it. Those in high places keep the Eyes from moving against our members.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Members from the Empire that is. Anyone who’s from outside the Empire is fair game.”
